Fractured Poem
by Dark Closure
Summary: There is a reason why Splinter is cautious of who his children befriend. Men make monsters, and monsters are not to be trifled with. But what happens when someone as strong in character as Raphael tries to take away a monster's object of affection?
1. Chapter 1

_Fractured Poem_

Chapter 1

Raphael was different from the rest of them. He was more violent, physical, and rough around the edges, but there was more to it. Leonardo had started to find the difference creeping up on him and making itself ever more present as he started to withdraw from the family. Yes, he would still play with Mikey, but there was something held back about it. He would pick on Donatello and give him noogies, but in a way that made it seemed forced. He would greet Splinter the same as always, nothing changing between father and son, but he had most noticeably changed towards Leonardo himself. Their once head butting relationship was becoming non-existent, and Raphael would have a hard time looking at his brother, just doing as he was told. At first it was a pleasant, yet unsettling surprise, then it progressed, setting a worry deep in the three brothers that were confused and starting to become scared. A few times they had tried to approach him about his odd behavior; only to be told that he was fine. Then one day he got a phone call in the middle of dinner. His voice was hushed, hands fidgeting as he tried to make some sort of arrangements. Three sets of eyes turned to one another questioning what was going on. Tawny eyes stole a look to their father who just sipped his tea, leaving his meal untouched until his fourth son returned to the table.

Something odd was going on, he did not know what, but it settled an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach; a feeling that burbled and laughed at him in a taunt. It wasn't right, whatever it was; Raphael's behavior, the way Splinter did not seem to notice the change in the family. Something was really wrong, and by the looks his other brother's faces, they knew it as well. There was the sound of the phone hanging up that set his muscles tight. There was a tension as Splinter looked over his shoulder giving his son the strangest of looks Leonardo had ever seen on their father's face; disapproval. He had never disapproved of any of his children, perhaps some of the rather ridiculous things they had done in the past, but not themselves.

"I'm goin' out," Raphael mumbled starting to drag his feet.

Everyone started, except the red masked turtle when Splinter's voice boomed out, "You are not permitted to go out, not until dinner has been eaten and I have a word with you."

"But master maybe-"

"Leonardo," the old rat did not look at the one child he prized more than the others. "This is none of your concern, please allow Raphael and I to work this out."

A typical "yes master" was choked in his throat. He watched helplessly as Raphael came back to the table, sitting down so that his back was to everyone as he watched the shadows that were hidden just out of reach of every light placed up. It was like he wanted to be swallowed up by it, to just disappear and be left alone for the rest of his life. Everyone finished eating, slowly due to the dissaperance of appetites. Splinter got up from the table and made his way to his room -four turtles waited at the table, three worried, one looking old and tired as he sat in his chair like a broken doll.

"Raph?" Michelangelo reached over the table, hand barely touching skin that tightened under his finger tips.

When no other response came forth Donatello tried, "Raphael... um... you do know we're here for you right?"

A half shrug, at least it was better than nothing.

"You can come to us for anything, honest. Anything at all."

Tired eyes started to gleam with an emotion that was foreign to them, sadness was evident as he shifted, looking up to meet Leonardo's gaze. The leader looked surprised as their sibling got up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. "I gotta talk ta Splint'a," with that he took long strides, ducking into their father's room.

Leonardo's lips pressed against each other softly and relaxed, repeating a few times, a sign he was deep in thought. His eyes watched the door his brother's shell had disappeared into, familiar fingers of Michelangelo threaded over his palm taking his hand into a tight worried grip as Donatello got up to stand by his side, hand on his shoulder for reassurance. They couldn't just leave him like that; whatever "affair" was at hand was changing their brother into a hollow being that could only echo commands. They wanted the old Raphael back... the one that would snap at them, who would throw his brother-like passion around with noogies and playful punches. The one that lived with them, who slept next to their rooms at night, it felt as if it was someone else.

"When he goes out tonight..." Leo whispered, feeling the hands on him squeeze to confirm that they agreed with his unfinished thought. He wasn't the only one who saw those eyes, the gaze of sadness and defeat, that look of silent pleading. He needed help, but he couldn't ask for it. It didn't matter to them, they were going to give him help even if they had to force it upon him.

*~*~*~*

That night, slipping up to the streets above, Raphael quietly made his way to the roof tops. With sleek precision, he flowed with the shadows from rooftop to rooftop, making his way to his destination. He was unaware of being followed, and if he did know he wouldn't have cared. He stopped by a flower shop, his brothers watching as he picked the lock, quickly got in and got out leaving a few bills on the counter. More curious than worried they continued to shadow his every move until it took them to the outskirts of town. From rooftops to the streets below, hiding in trees as they continued to move farther away from rushing streets and cluttered sidewalks. The three froze when they watched the silhouette of their brother disappear into the gaping maw of an old graveyard.

Michelangelo's body pressed up against Leonardo's shell as the youngest hid behind the oldest, blue eyes peering over shoulder and blue mask tails fluttering in the increasing wind. Donatello had taken a step back and closer to Leonardo as well, taking in the comfort that was their leader, the man with out fear -or so he told himself.

"Why would Raph come here?" Donatello's voice came through the wind that pushed and pulled at them like a curtain. Something was wrong, almost akin to the electrical hum coming from a light bulb that had just burned out.

"I… don't know," Leo tried to get his legs to move but the rusted fangs of the cemetery gate groaned in the wind, moving them as if they could fall at any moment. Applying some imagination, it could easily look like the mouth of a beast all ready to swallow whomever was brave enough to walk past it whole; the reason, he was certain, Michelangelo was currently shivering.

"Um, maybe we should, uh, you know, like… uh, go in and… Make sure he's okay."

Leonardo put a comforting hand over the top of Michelangelo's, the hand shivering under his warm palm. He patted the hand in reassurance. "No matter how creepy this may look, we need to go in there and find out what exactly has been going on with Raph."

He heard Mikey take in a deep breath, before both his brothers flanked his sides, coming around him as the hand under his curled fingers. Leonardo's blood ran cold. A chill of the coldest frost upon a tombstone settled in his stomach as he counted the five fingers that began to clutch.

Quickly he whirled around, backing up a few steps with a start. Instinctively his hand flew to the hilt of a swords, only to relax at the realization that there was nothing behind him. He jerked from Donatello's touch when his younger brother touched his arm. Looking to the olive colored ninja he stood silent for a few moments, eyes wide and unsure if he had even felt anything at all. Donatello's hazel gaze seemed to search him for answers before narrowing in confusion and curiosity. "You okay Leo?"

"Yeah," he moved his palm from his hilt.

"Dude, I'm the one who's supposed to be scared here," Michelangelo tried to smile, despite the fact that he did seem less than courageous from his brother's actions. "Do you need a pep talk to get you back into leader mode? You know I'm all for going back home and doing a team rally and coming back out here in the morning."

The forest green turtle tried not to roll his eyes as he shook his head. He decided not to reply to the youngest's mix of humor and pleading, and take point instead. Moving relatively quickly they managed to get the twisted gate. The metal teeth above cracked and bent, taking away the name of the cemetery and leaving nothing but thorny bolts and screws. Tawny eyes looked up as the jaw of the beast groaned in the wind, jittery in movement as if jostled by a group of kids. He felt himself automatically swallow before hurrying into the darkness of the cemetery, his brothers close to his shell. He would be lying if he said that everything was alright, in fact, everything seemed off. There was something in the air that left a strange feeling in the back of his mouth, almost as if he had tried to swallow his own tongue. The grass on his feet felt as if it was shying away, trying to hide. The wind held a mischievous whisper, as if it knows all and only wishes to taunt with silence... and for a moment Leonardo found himself comparing Raphael and Splinter's actions to everything this night held.

"Hey, there, some lights." Donatello pointed over to a few that flickered in a small thicket nestled in the breast of tall Mausoleums. Like willow o' wisps a few dull lights flickered through the trees, swaying gently, weaving and dancing. "I... think someone may be looking for something."

"Why do you say that Donnie?" Michelangelo hid behind his older brothers, displaying their own insecurity of being out in the open in such a taboo location.

"The pattern of the lights, it's consistent of someone who's looking for something..." His brows knitted together, "You don't think that Raph is over there... do you?"

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't a pleasing thought that the floating glow of the flashlights maybe looking for their brother but it was very plausible, after all Raphael had the strongest form of "turtle luck". It ran as Murphy's truest law- what can go wrong will go wrong. With this as a firm fact in their lives they could do little more than become cautious and wade their way through the rows of tombstones towards the mausoleums.

The closer they got the louder calling voices came to their ears. With graceful forms, the three mutants scaled the side of the tallest stone structure, perching high upon the room like archaic gargoyles. Their trained eyes gazed down to the ones below counting the heads, frowning at the fact they were all in uniforms. Donatello moved closer to his brothers, slinking soundless. They gathered, eyes reflecting small flashes of light in blue, gold and mauve, clustered together like cats on a fence. "Why are police officers searching a graveyard?" Don whispered in his soft voice.

"Your guess is as good as mine..." Leonardo pulled away from the edge, "They're bringing in a K-9 unit, we should pull back."

"I... don't think that will be necessary."

Michelangelo shifted nervously, "Dude, dogs can sniff out if you've got too much money in your wallet. What makes you think they can't find turtles that live in the sewer?"

"Because of that." The well educated turtle pointed down to the ground, small clumps of what looked like golden hay were scattered around. "That's gold rod."

"So?"

"So, gold rod basically kills the dog's sense of smell... and it is some times used in more 'unique' floral arrangements."

The leader of the group shot his attention to his sibling, "Are you saying that Raph is throwing the police off?"

"I'm saying it's a pretty good possibility, whatever Raph wanted from here, he got and was expecting the police to try and follow."

Leonardo turned his gaze back to the one's below. They were already too close to dangerous humans, they couldn't linger and dig up theories as to what their brother was doing. With a quick command the three pulled back, weaving through the shadows once more. Around bright lights and tall trees, to the building tops that were as memorized as the fluid katas they performed daily. They eventually slowed to a stop on a comfortable rooftop. The gravel that laid in a thin lair under their feet shifted their shadows like ripples in a dark pond due to a flickering light; small bugs and moths fluttering around it.

The brothers looked to one another. None of them wanted to accuse of Raphael of something that he may or may not have done. But there were facts that have been presented, ones that were strong in point; Splinter disapproving of Raphael, their brother's sudden change of character, and now the police. They have been given less and have summed up the truth... but with this...

Michelangelo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arms folding across his chest. He was the closest one to the largest ninja. He liked to think that he knew the turtle rather well, but... but if this was what it was then... He swallowed, he didn't like the thought of that.

Donatello was the first one to break the silence, "I think... we need to talk to him."

It was the youngest who snorted bitterly, "Oh and say what? We know you've been turning to the dark side Raph, we're here to talk it out with family therapy?"

"I didn't say that. But at least it's an option."

"No, Donnie, Mikey's right. If we did that then it'll just make things worse. We..." Leo felt bit of bile churn up his throat. His brother, his own flesh and blood doing crimes? Why Raph? He was the one who was the most adamant in punishing the wicked. Just thinking about it was sickening him, but... hopefully it wasn't too late. Hopefully they could monitor him and cut him off at the pass if he tries something again. "We'll just keep a close eye on him from now on."

"And if he does something?" Leo could hear the desperation in Don's words. The need to have something to anchor himself down now that everything seemed to be spiraling.

Golden eyes looked sad, "We stop him."

"Stop who?"

Three brothers started at the sudden addition. Raphael's red eyes held a haunting hue in them from the bright moon over head. The breeze picked up his mask tails, flicking them gently as the largest of the four narrowed his gaze upon the three that instinctively backed away from the surprise.

"Raph! Don't do that!" Mikey put a hand over his heart, leaning over his slightly bent knees. His pulse was hammering, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. Why was it that he felt so frightened? It wasn't like he had just seen a ghost.

"I'll ask once more; stop who?"

The other ninja looked to one another, it was disconcerting to hear that gruff voice so cold; devoid of the passion that was usually present.

Leonardo was the one who came forward, his hands held out pleadingly, "Raph... is there... something you would like to tell us?"

"No," was the curt reply. "Answer my question."

"Raph, please, it's not what you think-"

The emerald turtle snapped his attention to Donatello cutting the mechanic off, "What do I think? More importantly, what do you think? Have you been talking to Splinter?"

"N-no. We were worried and followed-"

"You followed me?!" The sudden rage caused all three to jump back a step. "How far?" He took a step forward, the heat of his anger washing over them. Donatello and Michelangelo curled into each other, gripping onto each other as a sudden fear struck their senses. "I asked 'how far'!!"

"O-only to the cemetery!!"

Leonardo quickly shoved at Raphael's chest, pushing him back and away. The distance allowed him to finally breath, his heart fluttering as if he had just finished a battle. His eyes were wider than usual, his palms sweating. The only thoughts in his head repeated like a begging child; _get him away, get him away, get him away_.

He couldn't believe it. Something about Raphael was making him terrified. And as he watched his brother in the moonlight he stopped breathing.

Behind his brother;

Over his shoulder;

Was the faintest whisper of smoke in the shape of a woman's silhouette.

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

The bat came down hard. Skin pressed down under the force, bone cracked and veins popped. He raised the bat back over his head, wildly beating it down upon the ones at his feet. The wet crunch of the fleshy bodies echoed in his ears, splitting open to send fan shaped sprays of crimson upon the walls. His breathing was heavy, ragged from the exertion of self preservation. His muscles burned, his lungs stung. The footsteps, the footsteps were coming again. He had little time before _they_ caught up again. Stammering over the bodies, he dropped the blunt object in his hands. His knuckles ached as he mindlessly stepped in the horrors that he had just committed. Fleshy globs stuck to his white socks, rapidly cooling liquid seeping up between his toes as he stumbled forward. He needed to write something down, he needed to record the truth, give some warning to those who would come to suffer the same fate. His trained hands groped over a desk finding paper and pen. He hurriedly wrote, his penmanship blotted and sloppy from the lack of light and the pumping adrenalin.

The footsteps were closer now, some scratching, others soft like a child's. With great fear he grabbed his parchment and ran, down the winding hallways and out a secret door that lead to the alley. The footsteps were following, they always followed. So little time left. He had to get away, just long enough to... to... Why were there flashing lights? Who was yelling at him? Slowly, he began to recognize the blue and red lights. And he welcomed the men that shoved him to the ground and the metal binds they put over his wrists. Yes, yes, they would surely help, after all they were men of the law. It was their job to protect, they would surely save him from the ones that were after him.

The days that followed seemed so strange to Mikey. Leo spent a lot of time with himself and Don, more than usual. And when Raph would come around Leo would look away and become silent, it was almost as if he was scared. Then there was Raphael himself. Maybe it was the fact that Mikey was questioning his brother's morals, but he was noticing how much time his elder brother spent in his room. A few times he had been passing by the closed door and heard Raph's deep voice talking to someone, but he could only hear his brother's side of the conversation. It didn't help that Raph still got the mysterious phone calls during the night, and he would slip out when no one was looking. Worse yet... Leo didn't want to follow. Whenever he pointed out that the emerald turtle was gone their usually fearless leader would dart his sight around as if looking for something. The would then promptly give some dismissing comment and pretend to meditate until he thought he was alone. Once Mikey had made it sound like he had left, then he watched his eldest sibling curl up in a fetal position and cover his ears.

Eventually Mikey found himself cradled in Donatello's bed sheets. His brother working on the computer in the dim lit room. His only comfort, his only stable point in their family was the resident genius, who for the life of him couldn't figure out what was happening. There were theories but none of them plausible to the scientific mind. So when asked what was going on all he could do was either stammer out his words and stop in mid-hypothesis or just reply, "I don't know." In the end, the two of them stuck together tightly, sweeping Leonardo close whenever the leader showed that he needed the stability that was them.

"Do you think things will be okay?" Mikey whispered into the dark towards his brother's shell.

No reply, only the sounds of the keyboard key's being tapped down at a quick pace.

"I wish you'd at least tell that I'm here."

Donatello's back suddenly stiffened. He turned slightly, the luminescent light of the monitor giving the turtle a tiny glow. "Did you hear that?"

"Here what?"

"... that." Don got up to his feet, his brows knitted together.

"I don't hear-"

"Shh!" The mechanic held up his hand shooshing his youngest sibling.

Something soft filled the air. It was hard to hear as it crackled and tried to flicker into life. Donatello started to follow the sound, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. Michelangelo slipped off of the bed and hurriedly came up behind the olive ninja. It sounded like a broken radio, trying to desperately pick up a cross section of stations. The two of them made their way away form the only light in the room that was on. The shadows of the work table chilling the air causing their leathery skin to prickle up in bumps. Mikey felt the temperature suddenly plummet, his hot breath puffing out into the darkness.

"I thought you fixed the heater in your room."

Donatello frowned, "I did."

"Uh huh," Mikey stepped around his brother and picked up the chunks of Raphael's old shell cell, still broken and squished from back when Hun first tried to use the device as a way to intimidate the turtle. A bit of the shell cell flopped down, dangling on a wire as the crackling sound continued, "Just like you fixed this, huh?"

"Mikey."

"You're getting lazy Donnie-boy."

"Mikey..." Donnie took a step towards the door.

"What?"

"That's not fixed... it... it hasn't even had a power charge in over a year."

Michelangelo felt the back of his neck prickle as the static started to get louder, a voice trying to push past the white noise. Suddenly a hand shot out from under Donatello's work bench. The turtle gave a scream leaping back. Under the bench laid a woman on her back, her body twisted up as if her joints had completely, and rather painfully, locked up. Her gaze was locked on him and his brother. The two screamed and shouted running to the door of the room. Don ripped open the door, they spilled out into the hallway, scrambling along the railing of the walk way. The first person they ran into was Splinter, his elderly eyes wide with concern for his frightened sons. He couldn't make out what they were saying. When Leonardo came up he passed his sons to his eldest and decided to investigate himself.

"What happened? What's going on?" It was Raphael who came up last.

"The shell cell, it was busted and trying to talk!!" Mikey clutched at Leo's shoulder, "Th-then it touched me!"

"What? What touched you?"

"A woman," Don was visibly trembling all logic stripped from him as he stood with Leo's hand on his shoulder. "S-she was just there, under my work bench, twisted and... and- broken... she, she was watching us."

"A..." Raphael's eyes widened, his feet picked up and he ran into the room. He slammed open the door only to find Splinter on his knees by the bench. The turtle looked around franticly, "D-did you see her?"

"See who?"

"Her!! You-... You did, didn't you."

"My son, Donatello and Michelangelo were just overwhelmed by-"

"Don't lie to me!! You saw her!"

The rat sniffed the air and looked away, "I saw nothing."

Auburn eyes narrowed down on the rat. The turtle's voice was thick with rage, "I hope you go to hell."

To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

The chains rattled between his feet as he was guided by two men in blue uniform. His dark eyes kept fluttering back and forth of the length of the hallway wall; from down by the floor up to the ceiling as if watching something skitter along. Time seemed endless as he kept his eyes trained on the unseen; _they_ was there, no matter what he did _they_ was there. But now, now they wouldn't do anything to him, just taunt him; if they tried to make any more contact then they risked having _it_ slip through. Oh no they wouldn't risk that, the thing horded _it_, they needed _it_. And as long as he stayed there, where all the lowest and dirtiest of Manhattan lived, then he was safe.

He felt as he did in the past; proud and unyielding. He couldn't help the smirk that crosses his lips when he was stopped, the door to a room unlocked by one of the guards. The creature with black eyes watched him, scowling from the perch between ceiling and wall. The man with the gravely voice and bright orange prison garb gave a scoffing laugh that was low and short. He believed he had deserved it, a small laugh in their face; after all, he had won.

He was shoved slightly causing him to stumble. The guards brought him over to the table that had been fixed to the floor. One unlocked a rope of his chains while the other watched him for any signs of sudden movement. The chain was threaded through a metal loop that was built into the table and then his free hand was bound once more. He could careless for their precaution, he didn't have anywhere to go. The only important thing he had to do now was watch and wait.

It wasn't long before someone came into the room. Not very tall but intelligent eyes that had been hardened due to... _something_. His brows raised when _they_ backed away from the door, growling in the many whispers. This was interesting. They didn't like his visitor.

When the person passed by him and took a seat a familiar oder struck his nose. A dark grin split his face, oh yes, this was very interesting indeed.

"I know what I saw!" Mikey shouted standing up from the kitchen table. He angrily gathered the dishes from his breakfast, not pleased as to where this conversation was going.

It's been three days and Donatello was more than willing to accept what Splinter called a "reasonable explanation." He's been under stress before and never had he hallucinated a woman twisted up in pain under Don's work bench! Why couldn't his family not try to brush what they didn't understand under the rug?!

He sighed, feeling older than he really was when he washed his dishes. Usually Donnie would be asking so many questions, but he just... didn't. Leo was trying to be reasonable but since he didn't see it he just couldn't relate so he stayed away from the conversation and tried to change the subject. Then there was Raph who had gotten worse in his weird antics. He now freely argued with Splinter in the open, the two screaming and shouting over what was forbidden. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

"Mikey, I'm just saying it hasn't happened since." Donatello sighed from the table where Leo sat next to him.

Leo listened to his brothers, he kept his eyes closed just concentrating on their voices. He didn't care that they were bickering, he just wanted to feel something that was different from the helpless cold feeling he got whenever he tried to meditate. He was beginning to hate meditating now, it felt as if he was drowning, no matter which way he went he couldn't find a way out of the dense fog that froze to his skin.

The forest green turtle shook his head trying to get that feeling to leave him alone, he was here, awake and aware of everything and having breakfast with his brothers not meditating not feeling... feeling...

"Leo?"

He visibly jerked, "Wh-huh?"

"Are you okay?" Two pairs of eyes looked to him concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I just... I guess I'm coming down with something."

Don and Mike exchanged glances.

"Really guys I'm fine. Really," he forced a smile on his lips. If he was fine, then why was he feeling that icy feeling again? Why did he lungs feel like a winter's breath? He flinched, one eye screwing shut as he put a warmed palm to his head as an image filled his mind. Someone running, hands on stone and that horrible fog.

"Sure you are," Mikey scoffed bitterly. He hated this, everything was changing, they were all drifting apart, holding secrets from each other. He turned the the refrigerator, hand on the freezer handle, "And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

The youngest yanked open the freezer and screamed. Instinctively he jumped to the side, his shell slamming back against the counter when something came shooting out of the freezer. The heavy object smashed into the table toppling it over. Dishes broke against the floor littering the kitchen in the debris of disaster.

The three turtles watched in horror as the sounds of ragged breathing reached their ears. They jumped back when it began to move, the sound of ice encrusted clothing shifting as it twisted around uncurling. The body trembled and shivered, cracked and split lips attempted to talk but words only came out as a strange crackling that crocked. It was when the thick coughing started that Donatello moved. He came forward, and knelt down. His heart hammered in his chest as he leaned his ear down to the lips that tried to communicate. He could barely hear it, like the voice that tried to push through the static on the dead shell cell, but it was there. "Please... help."

To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter 5

The rain came down in sheets, drumming against surfaces in an ancient tribal dance. Auburn eyes watched the droplets bounce from the hood of the car springing in flairs of a fairy dance. The rain once was something he would look forward too. Something he remembered getting excited over when the sounds of the tunnels had rushing water. His heart would begin to race, his hearing blocking everything else out. He would always make some excuse to leave, to go up top to feel the heavenly drops kiss his skin like the petal soft lips that smiled. He was never cold in the rain... he pushed the memories to the side when he could hear the clack of high heels on the pavement. Pushing back he uncrossed his arms from the steering wheel that he had been leaning against. The door opened, the black skirt of his companion's suit were a stark contrast to the pale legs. She didn't bother straightening out the skirt that traveled up her thigh, mindlessly he reached over and straightened it as the woman tried to push the wet and frayed dark curls from her face. "Thanks," she huffed out in her unique accent. With an "oh" she quickly moved correcting the black cap that kept his features hidden from anyone who may chance looking into the vehicle.

"How'd it go in there?" Raphael asked quietly as if the rain itself could be listening.

The woman's intelligent eyes darkened, her face falling into a hardened scowl. She opened up her purse pulling out a bundle of paper and a tape recorder. The purse was tossed with little care; the empty pouch of hard fake leather clattering around the back before falling to the floor between the seats. She clutched the objects feeling her saliva muck up with distaste, "Better to take it home and find out for yourself... there's a lot to take in."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we go home and I order out for curry and more caffeine than legally acceptable for the United States... We've got a long night ahead of us."

Fingers twisted up like spider legs, limbs locked in peculiar angles, joints dislocated forcing the being into a convoluted remnants of its former self. The ice crystals upon the dirtied denim slowly crumpled and melted in the warm air, mixing with charred scorch marks that peppered across arms and legs. There was... so much to do as the uninvited guest started to gasp for air on the floor. Mouth gaping like a fish out of water, eyes fixed on him, still pleading for help as it became more difficult to breathe.

Leonardo passed the turtle a pair of scissors, the pair of blades shimmered in the light, the sight startling the person on the floor. Michelangelo's firm hands kept the human from moving more than a few inches, his whole body weight pressed down to achieve the task.

"Easy, easy," Don moved the pair of scissors down to the bottom hem of the shirt. His voice was soft and encouraging like a father speaking to a child, "Before we move you we need to see how injured you are."

Donatello took a moment, before putting the scissors in place and started cutting. Slowly, the scissors cut the cloth. The metal slipped up pulling the matted fabric away from the flesh that clung desperately onto what it tried to swallow. As he worked, a strange oder slowly became more pungent. With the final snip the man's shirt draped and folded in a peculiar way. Donatello's eyes narrowed, his attention screwing down tight onto the sliver of discolored tissue that peered through the bunches of cloth. His heart pounded loudly in his ears; his breath held in as his mind tried to deny what he was anticipating on finding.

Carefully gripping the cut shirt he steeled himself. Gently pulling the cloth back, he opened the tissues to he fresh air. A wave a stench wafted out, thick with rot assaulted his nose. He had to swallow down the swell of bile that climbed up his throat at the sight. Donatello heard Michelangelo vomit and Leonardo move back, his carapace scraping against floor as the oldest moved back. The olive colored turtle covered his mouth with the back of his hand taking a few deep breaths. He found himself shaking, his eyes burning as the man continued to gulp air. Donnie's watering gaze locked to the mans. His lips mouthed wide and bold "Please help". Hazel eyes dropped down to the gaping cavity of red, black and yellow. The stinging in his eyes made a few tears pearl down. There was... there was no way he could help, except...

His sight picked out the familiar shape. Shakily his hand went over the piece of wood and metal. He swallowed, hesitating. He looked back making eye contact once more and within a blink of an eye Donatello's fingers had wrapped around the handle. An arch of light reflecting off of the metal tooth before the knife came down.

Raphael stabbed the small box of chinese take-out with his chop sticks, the small utensils sticking straight up as he growled leaning back in his chair. Spread across the table in front of him were thick pamphlets were stapled, paper clipped and even curled together with rubber bands. The papers ranged from hand written notes to crime scene reports and photographs. In the middle was a tape recorder that clicked silently before clicking off. He put his hand up to his lips in thought, his mind wrapping around what he had just heard, all of the information that had just been given to him.

The woman beside him rested her head against her hand as she sat. Her dark hair twisted and curled in a lazy pony tail that was falling out. She swallowed the bit of water she had in her mouth, the tap of her placing her glass down the only sound that was currently filling the apartment. "Well... what do you think Rhoddin?"

Auburn eyes looked to the woman with a unique accent that was a mix of british and welsh. He let out a long breath through his nose before twisting in his seat to address her properly. "I think we need to get some better answers."

"And how do you plan that?"

"I haven't been helpin' you out for nothin'."

She shifted leaning forward, "So how do you wanna do it?"

"Get in and get out, yank that whack bag out by his own golden tattoo."

"We'll be breaking into a state penitentiary. We'll need a plan, gear-"

Raphael smirked, "Don't worry about it. I got it covered."

To Be Continued...


	6. Chapter 6

When the blades of the knife came down, javelining the skull of the human on their kitchen floor, the room fell silent. Michelangelo's eyes were wide, his hands trembling. Sea green fingers slowly curled clutching at the denim jacket that still crinkled from scored patches and glazed with frost. His mind was blank as his baby blue eyes just stared straight ahead over the top of Donnie's scalp. He didn't know how to breathe. He felt unusually hot liquid seep around him, pooling into a crimson puddle that stained his shins and knees.

This happened so fast, too fast. Leonardo held the back of his wrist against his mouth as he felt his stomach churn with a deadly twist. Bile and water flooded his throat, his mind only allowing him the one thought; don't throw up. His body twisted despite what his mind was commanding. Leo opened his mouth before his hand could be fully pulled away and the mixture of bodily fluids spilled out onto the floor, some splashing over his wrist.

Leonardo's thoughts tried desperately to rationalize this behavior, he's seen butchered bodies before, even a few times he had to take a life or two on the battle field. But none of them had such a stench, no one living had their organs half exposed, infection and maggots crawling, squirming up under their ribs. Their skulls had a resounding crack not an odd mushing, mashing sound like limp celery. And... his mouth opened once more, his stomach churning, throat flooding and spilling out what little was left.

Donatello couldn't swallow, he held his breath as his eyes refused to close to the gore under him. It was nothing but horror, sheer horror. His shaking hand still held onto the handle of the kitchen knife he had grabbed from the floor. The mechanic's mind was blurred to a dull numbness that he couldn't justify beyond; it was a mercy killing.

Something caught his eye. A gray amongst the red and yellow tissues where only a few pale maggots writhed. It reflected the shine of the kitchen light; metallic, and long... Curiosity being his most primal instinct, he uncurled his fingers from their white knuckled grip on the knife. The action making his phalanges prickle with relief from how tight his hold had been. It seemed like forever as he moved his hand down to the chest cavity of the corpse. He hesitated not wanting to desecrate this person more than they already have, but... what was that? He carefully dug his fingers into the squishing spoiled meats. He felt vomit travel up his throat as he turned his head and just let his fingers work on grabbing the slippery object. He swallowed several times, he could feel the disgusting rot slipping under his fingernails.

Finally he got a hold of it.

Pulling on it made a sound of slurping and tearing as he dislodged it. The object came up with tiny ribbons of cloth that lifted to the dead man's neck. A necklace... Opening his olive palm, Donatello found the pendant to be of a Celtic Cross with a uniquely long bottom. He was startled out of his observations, jerking and twisting to look at Leonardo who had finally collected himself and touched Donnie on the shoulder.

"We," the leader swallowed again, his breath stinking of vomit. "We need to do something with the body."

* * *

Raphael snapped together the clip over his chest before rolling his shoulders back. It's been a while since he wore this outfit, three years in fact. He flexed his arms before adjusting one sleeve to his Nightwatcher costume, flexing once more to make sure the outfit fit like a second skin just like the old days. But this time he wasn't going solo, and instead of running off aimlessly wonder the streets and listen to the police bands, he had a set goal. His partner was fitting on her leathers. The black and red pleated pants and jacket made her look as if a professional racer that was about to go out onto the back top and rip off on a motorcycle to win a competition.

"You ready for this Bryony?" Raph addressed the woman with bright eyes and black hair.

Silver green eyes looked to him deadly and precise like a scalpel. The past six months have not been kind to her. The kind wonder was no longer a spark in her soul, instead there was a dark cold flame that could barely flicker. Stress caused her curly hair straighten, her eyes holding dark marks under them when she quickly became a "no nonsense" girl. Then again he was no different. Life at home quickly bacame haunting at a broken down orphanage. They needed to get light back into their eyes and feel it upon their skin. And their was only one way to do that.

"Let's gather some information," her calm voice hissed out, most of her patience already used up. She was tired of waiting, they both were.

Raphael slapped her shoulder before putting on his helmet. Bryony put on a biker's helmet before nodding to the turtle. Nightwatcher inwardly grinned, he was going to enjoy this.

* * *

"Try to keep up," Raph said in a monotone voice, dipping down to grab a small handful of rocks.

Jogging forward he kept his eye fixed on the first camera to the boundaries of the prison. He had to time this just right, they couldn't afford to be caught, not after they got what they came for.

Not slowing down he twisted in his steps, his hands grabbed Bryony's. With a leap and a powerful stomp to the ground he used his momentum to throw the woman over the fence, the sharp razor wire making fine cuts into the pleats of leather over her shoulders as she maneuvered in the air. She landed with a hard thud, rolling a few feet before getting up as if she had been there all the long. Raphael counted for three seconds, watching the camera pivot once more before darting forward and taking his chance to leap over the fence. At the crest of his leep he twisted, wrists flicking sending small rocks flying from his palms to smash into the rotator for the cameras hard enough to cause them to stick in place. Landing gracefully, the Nightwatcher looked to the human who pointed straight up indicating hidden cameras. He threw a few more rocks high up in an arch knocking against the cameras that would follow movement; preventing it from doing its job.

"Entrance and exit for staff?" the turtle asked.

"East side, south end corner," Bryony answered waiting for Raphael to make the first move.

Counting the seconds, Nightwatcher waited. He had timed the blank spots, for a maximum security prison they were full of holes that a shadow could slip in and out of without being detected. Stockman and Shredder had better security systems... then again one was an insane genius and the other nothing but a crazy alien; not exactly normal. But these experiences made him more prepared for taking on the simpler obstacles. If he didn't have to deal with them then he would have had to risk his brothers getting involved.

Raph found his opening and darted forward. Moving as quickly as they could, the two slipped along side the back of the large building; the ninja interrupting the cameras creating permanent blind spots. It was too dangerous to break the lenses or black them out. Someone would come out looking but if the cameras still had feed then the likelihood of raising suspicion was lessened dramatically. It made slipping inside easy, so did the fluent lock picking lessons that Splinter had taught Raphael since he was a hatchling.

Once inside they found the hallway was narrow making it hard to move fast without the ability of having his Look Out beside him. She was stuck behind until the hallway finally opened up, an odd mixture of grime and sterilized tile lined the floors and walls. The shiver that shook up his carapace was hard to shake off. There was just something about prisons that made everything seem... off.

"Raph. He's in Block A, cell 4, it's in the solitary confinement."

"... Do you know where that is?"

"If the map you got was good then it's too the left, up, then right." Bryony said.

"Well that's descriptive," he rolled his eyes. He stopped, stepping to the side to look behind him. For some reason he couldn't hear her footsteps behind him any more. "What is it?"

A gloved hand pointed straight back to the part of the wall that was hidden by the staff door. "Is that the power breaker?"

Raphael felt his lips curl up into a grin, he nudged Bryony with his elbow, "That's my girl."

He pulled out his sai and sent it soring through the air with a powerful throw. The sharp prongs easily tore through the metal casing of the breaker box and into the sensitive cables and fuses inside. Electricity arched into the air causing the lights to flicker and dim before the hallway was filled with the smell of smoke. A few tiny flames erupted, not having enough to feed off they burned at the damaged wires and plastic coatings. Bryony walked down the hallway and grabbed a hold of the insoulated handle. With a sharp yank the last of what was conducting the electricity severed plunging the prison into pure darkness. A few sounds started to erupt farther down where cells were clustered together as the human came back to the Nightwatcher's side. She handed back the sai. Raph took it and spoke up, "Come on Babe, we got a date to keep with Kahn."

To Be Continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Fractured Poem

Chapter 7

The darkness was filled with screams and shouts; a drowning madness of twisted men trapped behind bars. Their hands shot out clawing at the air, some calling for the guards others throwing insults and screams for no reason better than they could. Raphael and Bryony darted down the long corridors having to flip up their visors in order to catch what little light was supplied by dull emergency lights.

A hand caught a hold of Bryony's arm, she yelped from surprise when she was yanked back against bars, colliding with a clattering bang. Before the prisoner could get out a demand to be let free she had pulled out the small box cutter that was stored in her jacket pocket. With a quick slice of the tiny blade the man shouted and let go, holding onto his wrist as dark liquid spilled down to the floor. She stood there, oddly watching the shadow reel in fear and pain inside the cage of man.

Did she really just slit his wrist? She felt something dark inside writhe, slithering in circles.

"What do you think your doin'?" Raphael came back and grabbed her wrist, "Ignore 'im. We got ta get to Khan."

She stammered over a muted apology while being dragged along. Her feet stumbled several steps before she caught her footing and started to match him in pace. Even so, he kept a hold of her wrist making sure she would not be side tracked. They had to find out what Khan knew, he was the only one who had a clue as to what was going on besides possibly Splinter. Raphael felt his eye twitch at the thought of his "loving father".

They slid around a corner, their hearts beating faster. One more hallway, just one more and they'll get some answers, just one more. Their legs started to burn as they pushed themselves, arms pumping faster, lungs hurting from their excitement.

They turned once more.

They could see the marked door, Khan's cell.

Raphael was the fist there, his sai tip dug into the lock, hallowing it out forgoing the finesse he had been taught by his master. He swung the door open in time for Bryony to dart inside without loosing a step. Her heavy boot came down onto the slick floor, causing her to slide across to the far wall. Her shoulder smacked into something wet, a mixture of hard and soft.

The scent was the first thing to register, the smell strong of watered down rust on a hot day.

Bryony's heart stopped, her breath held. No, no this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. The lights on Raphael's helmet turned on, the dark room becoming bright. Her line of sight was met with white and red, mashed black and blobby yellow. Raphael grabbed her yanking Bryony back away from the gory warmth she had been nestled in. He pulled her to his chest, more for his own reassurance than for her comfort. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Khan, strung up by a shred of bed sheet; limbs severed, mouth sown shut, chest opened with his ribs broken and extended in a grotesque form of a flower.

"NO! NOOO!" Bryony fought against the turtle's hold. "You BASTARD!" She shrieked at Khan's corpse, "You were the last! You were the last one! You FUCKING BASTARD!"

"Babe, BABE!" Raphael held onto the human's arms with an iron grip. "We have ta go." She let out a sob and he shushed her as soothingly as he could as he felt his own despair set in. "We gotta go, we gotta go."

* * *

Leonardo carefully scrubbed the Celtic cross. His fingers were wrinkled, the metal was already shining like his polished swords, yet it still felt dirty to the touch. He had to make it clean, he had to make it better.

It had to be better.

Splinter came into the kitchen, the place smelling of bleach. His nose twitched at the offensive smell, his eyes slightly watering. He looked around, the kitchen table missing, a whitening spot on the floor drained off in rivets stained by the bleach. Two of his sons were no longer in their lair, and his eldest was hunched over the sink scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

"Leonardo? What had happened here?"

Leo continued as if he heard nothing.

His father frowned coming up to his son, standing by his side he tried to see what was shining within the suds, "Where are your brothers? And what are you washing my son?"

Tawny eyes quickly snapped to him, a smile pulled at green lips, "It's a present for Raph."

The rat's brows knitted together, a worry settling in his stomach. "May I see it?"

Those beautiful eyes, that bright smile, dimmed. The eldest turtle looked at him with such an odd expression, the kind that children got when a stranger asked them to come into a car for a ride. He cupped his hands over the object trapping it like a butterfly.

"No..." His voice was soft and lost, "It's for Raph." Quickly and quietly Leo hurried away from the sink leaving Splinter with only the sound of the running faucet.

* * *

The hallway was long and white, only a few specks of colors mingled with the tiled floor. The stench of disinfectants made the place feel almost like home for the man walking down the hallway. His long purposeful strides were accompanied by another's. The person was rattling off things that were irrelevant to him, but at least the voice held back his excitement. He was just short of running into the room with his long awaited prize. It had been so long, waiting, watching, gathering information.

"As I was saying sir, it was found on the side of a remote road in the state of Washington on the west coast. A couple of people found it when out deer hunting. They couldn't even recognize what exactly it was until after looking in the mouth then they were able to tell what it was by the teeth."

The man adjusted his lab jacket coming to a stop to an elevator. He hit the down button while continuing, "After authorities arrived it was easy enough for us to take hold of the case." The door opened, the two stepped in. The man talking pressed a button and leaned back against the bars in the elevator walls. "Transport was more difficult than expected, there are a lot of people in that area that believe that privacy isn't within anyone's rights. Though, I must admit the officials were easily distracted with anything labeled- medical emergency."

"Was it necessary to take precautions?"

"No. Amazingly enough even though it was found where it originally belonged there had been no real notice."

The other man smiled, adjusting his black tie, "My dear colleague, your rather rude with how you address patients."

The doctor laughed, "I forgot how you like to personalize your work."

The doors opened to a dimly lit hallway. Their shoes clacked on the cement as they approached the glow of orange and red. One in white, one in black, two sides of the same shadow. The heavy plastic of a makeshift ICU unit was shoved aside.

"So, what do you think Mr. Bishop?"

He smiled, placing his hand over the bandages that covered a face, "I think we've made substantial progress Dr. Knight. Very substantial."

TBC...


End file.
